I am an Observer
by Amashelle
Summary: Wilson POV, as he watched the Taylors and their world colapse around them. AU. Drug use, Alcaholism and other adult themes. I've screwed them up pretty bad.
1. Default Chapter

The Taylors. I could tell you things about them that would make you see them in a whole new light. I've seen them at their worst, and trust me, its not always pretty. Worst of all, theings don't always wrap up nice and tidy in the end.  
  
When I first met them, I thought them to be no more than another, run-of-the-mill, average family. Granted, Tim was a little accident prone, and sometimes even down-right stupid, but that wasn't all that unusual. Both he and Jill were nice enough, and I became rather attached to the young couple. Later on in my relationship with them, their first son, Brad, was born, and Randy was soon to follow. I noticed rather early on that they had a typical sibling rivalry, with petty fights easily forgotten. Then Mark came, and I discovered how visious people could be.  
  
You see, Mark was a little gulibel, and this made him an easy target when presented to his brothers. He was also oddly sensitive, which made Brad and Randy's pranks hit him all the more deeply. Both Tim and Jill did their best to help, but their efforts were seen as favoratism in the eyes of the older two.  
  
Things did not get better with age. Brad discovered he had a talent for sports, and Randy, in turn, found he had an aptitue for school studies. This left Mark with very few options. As time wore on, I senced Jill and Tim silently comparing him to his older brothers.  
  
And then he was introduced to the world of film-directing, and, like so many quiet, upset young people, Mark became an artist.  
  
Much of this you likely knew, or could figure out with a passing observation. But I, Wilson Wilson, have the inside scoop. I know parts of their story they themselves have only guessed at. How? Because I'm an observer, I watch and I listen, so that I can help, should the need arise. 


	2. Chapter Two

Jill's back from work. One of these days I can see her becoming a great phycologist, thought it is a shame she can't see the problems in her own family.   
  
I can see her through the window as she approches Randy and Brad where they sit spawled before the television. I can tell she's upset with the state of the kitched, She doesn't smell the alcahol on Randy's breath, though I know how much he has consumed. Neither does she find it odd that her eldest son is clad in a long-sleeved shirt, despite the warm air of summer that surrounded him. I knew of the tiny holes that dotted his arm, of the needles he kept hidden in his room. He didn't realize that my window faced his. I am certain that Mark had his own way of dealing, but I have yet to catch him in the act.  
  
So why don't I say anything? Because that's not what I do.  
  
Mark has entered the room. Even from this distance I can see he is pale, washed out. Whatever his self-inflicted thearpy might be, it is taking a tole on his health. His deep black clothes only made him look more pasty. I wish I knew what he was doing to himself!  
  
Brad looks up at his youngest sibling. 'Look,' I hear him yell 'It's the vampire wannabe!' Randy looked up, startled. Apparently, he'd no heard either his mom or Mark enter the room. He then returned to staring stupidly at the televsision.  
  
Mark turnes to look at Brad, but no comments are forthcoming. Shaking his head, the youngest boy comes towards me, entering his yard. I quickly turn my head away, pretending I hadn't been watching. 


	3. Chapter Three

~ Thank you to the reviewers, you know who you are. I'm aware that this is not something that would happen in the show, but it's insanely fun to write! This chapter is for all of you. ~  
  
The house is empty. From my living room window I watch as Tim locks his door behind him. No problem there. I still have a key for when they go out of town.  
  
As soon as his car is out of sight, I leave my house and approch theirs. It is bright enough outside that I don't need to turn on any of the lights, so I head straight for Mark's room. He is the priority.  
  
It is dark in the youngest son's bedroom, dark enough that I am forced to switch on the overhead light. Thick curtains have been pulled over the window, blocking the sun from view. Below these sits a low table, upon which rests his video camera and other equipment. The floor is relatively tide, considering the occupant's age and genetic heritage.  
  
A bookshelf sits against the far wall. This appwals to me as a good place to start, so I head over to it. Not much in the way of content, a few assinged texts for english, plays I was certain he had no intention of reading, a few discarded comic books shoved onto the bottom most shelf, a rather disturbing book entitled 'Vampires, Blood and the Tortured Soul'. I pause on this last one and gingerly pull it from the shelf. Disapointment. It is no more than a catalogue of horror films. There are many such books, for many different genres of film making. The remaining shelves are filled with titles such as 'Camera Angles and How to Make Them Work for You'.  
  
Just as I prepare to turn away, I catch sight of another book, burried among the seeminginly forgotten comic books. It is large and holds no title. Naturally, my curiosity wins over. I take the book and open it to the first page. I am greeted with ling after line of Mark's semi-tidy handwriting. As my eyes take in the words, my body and mind freeze in place.  
  
'Dear Wilson,' 


	4. Chapter Four

__

Dear Wilson,

I don't know how long it'll be before you bite the bullet and get your ass over here to dig up dirt on me and my family, but hey, I know it'll happen sooner or later. You were probably hoping this would give you a glimpse into my life, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. I also have no intention of telling you what drugs I'm on, or any of the other little juicy details about my self-prescribed meds. you came over here to discover. Snoop around my room all you like, you'll never find them. God I wish I'd chosen to tape my telling you this, but somehow I don't think you'd have the brilliant idea of watching any random home videos. Too bad, the look that must be on my face would probably scare the hell out of you. Maybe even keep you from coming back.

Well, I suppose you're wondering why I've not told my parents about your perverse obsession with us Taylors. I'll give you a moment to consider this………now, if you still haven't figured it out, did you really think they'd believe me? Look around you, does this look like the room of a credible accuser? Didn't think so.

That said, let's move on to my reasons for leaving you this message, something I'm sure you're also curious about. We'll get to how I know you're a phyco later on. That's right- I used the 'p-h' word, stay calm.

I know you spy on Brad from your bedroom window- has it occurred to you how incredibly perverted that is? You would not believe how tempted I have been to tell Angela… and Karla, and Lily and all the others about this disturbing little detail. I can't believe they still like him, even though he a twenty-year-old-mama's-boy. Bet you know the reason he's still here, too, that's because you're sick. And here people think I have problems…

But that's got nothing to do with anything.

This is a message for you, I know you've been watching us, and in return I'm keeping an eye on you, too. I'll know the moment you enter this house, and you'll never guess how. Why? Because your mind, brilliant as it may be, doesn't work that way. Take this as the warning it is.

Mark

Oops, did I know tell you how I know your dirty little secret?

This can't be. I can only stare at the page in shock and horror. How did the little druggy know? He's apparently not as blind as I thought he was. I let the book, filled with all its blank pages, fall to the floor as I stand. As a second thought, I kneel back down and replace it on the shelf, doing my best to make it look untouched.

My world had fallen apart around me.

I scramble to the door, only just remembering to turn the light off on my way out.

It was time to leave.


End file.
